Best Buy, you corporate devil

I have good news and bad news about my camera.

The good news: I found my usb cable. This means I was able to hook up my Kodak camera to the charger that plugs into the wall.

The bad news: My camera has been connected to a perfectly good outlet for over two days, and, after repeated tries, it won't turn on.

Damn you, Best Buy. Either this charger is faulty or the camera was never fixed in the first place. Either way, I'm pissed. Now I have to make the trek to Best Buy and recount my ever-growing story to some poor schmuck who has probably grown accustomed to listening to grumpy patrons who come in every day and complain, bitching about a DVD player they paid way too much money for and, after just a year -- and naturally just days after their service contract expired -- no longer works. Or have to listen to this gal, who:

-brought in her camera on Oct. 20 because the charger didn't work
-got the camera back roughly three weeks later...without the charger
-waited at least three more weeks for the charger to return
-and when it didn't come, she returned to Best Buy -- after numerous calls to the store -- to raise hell
-which was pointless because she went home empty-handed with no answers
-only to return later that week for a free charger...that doesn't work
-which brings me back to Best Buy, more than two months after my initial visit to get my camera fixed

If I were Santa, Best Buy would be on my naughty list.

A right of passage

I dropped the ball this holiday season.

We have a basket full of holiday cards and photo postcards. It seems that every one of Ben's colleagues and a large number of family and friends -- single friends included -- got the urge to spread Christmas cheer this year. Missing from the pile is a holiday photo card of our lovely mugs.

Being a "Mrs." now, I wanted to send one out to everyone we know so I could spread a little cheer of my own and show off a gorgeous wedding photo, too. It's a right of passage for newly-weds and new parents, right?

But Ben, God bless him, thought we could spend our money on better things. And I agree -- the $5o or so it would take to buy the cards and slap a stamp on them could be spent on something else, say a charity like Toys for Tots.

When Shutterfly.com offered a discount on holiday cards earlier this month, I should have jumped at the opportunity. And to think, dozens of refrigerators could be adorned with a sweet card from us right now. Instead, they're decorated with photos of someone else's kids.

Well, there's always Valentine's Day.

My qualm with Best Buy

I may boycott Best Buy for a very, very long time. Although that may not matter much to a corporation that I rarely frequent.

But for the last two months, I've stepped inside the store and talked to sales associates more often than a person would ever want.

The issue: My camera charger stopped working this fall.

Lucky for me, I bought a two-year service plan when I got the camera for my birthday two years ago. Naturally, I brought in my camera and the charger on Oct. 20. The camera and the accessory were sent to the service center to be fixed. So far, so good.

When I returned to Best Buy about three weeks later, the camera had returned but the charger had not. No explanation was offered. Assuming that the charger was simply still at the service center, the associate helping me said he would have to e-mail the center about the problem. He also said that the charger would probably not make it back to Minneapolis before Thanksgiving but that I would get a call when it was in.

When no one called me by the first week of December, I started to worry. So last week (Dec. 10), I called Best Buy, explained my situation and was told I would get a call back that evening. No one called. At this point, I was mildly frustrated. But on Dec. 12, I called Best Buy. Again, I was told someone would call me back that night with an answer. I don't think I even need to tell you what happened or, should I say, didn't happen.

On Saturday, I decided to go to Best Buy and raise some hell. By raise some hell, I mean I wanted to show my frustration, huff and puff, that kind of thing. The associate who had helped me back in November fortunately was working. He checked his e-mail history. The service center never replied to his inquiry about the location and status of my charger. So a higher-up said he would call the service center on Monday -- because it's closed during the weekend -- and get back to me by Monday afternoon. And if he didn't, he advised that I call him Monday. What do you think happened? Not a word from Best Buy.

Yesterday, I called the store and relayed my ever-growing story to another member of the Geek Squad. He informed me that the little helper who promised to call on Monday doesn't work Mondays or Tuesdays. Certain expletives came to mind when I heard this. He also told me that my service plan had expired, and I reminded him that it wasn't my problem that it expired during Best Buy's two-month-long attempt at fixing and returning my damn charger. Likely becoming just as sick of my problem as I was of him, he offered a new charger.

I picked it up last night. It requires a USB cord, though. My old didn't. So I'm on the hunt for the original package my camera came in and the USB cord that should be in it. Great.

On a side note, while I was at the store last night, there were at least a few customers and employees just moments away from going postal in that place. I could only empathize.

What's missing in my life...

I love my new 'do, but I miss the swish.

That's right, boys and girls. I cut my hair. I started gradually, cutting around five inches in October. This weekend I trimmed about two more inches.

I like the cut. It's sophisticated. But as I ran tonight, there was no swish. My usually long tail is about two inches.

I miss my hair, but only when I run.

Meet the dish washer

Getting married has destroyed my hands.

I wash dishes for two now. Almost every day, the dishes pile up. And almost every day, I wash them. On weekends, I've washed dishes multiple times a day. I do this because we don't have a dish washer, I hate clutter and my husband -- well -- is worthless when it comes to washing dishes (he does other things around the house). He either has to work at home after dinner or is just too tired (yes, I can hear the violin player, too) to do them.

So for the first time in my life, my hands seem irreparably dry and sometimes cracked. I never required hand moisturizer. Now I have a bottle in the bathroom and lotion in my desk at work. I cringe when I have to shake hands.

Being a wife is hard.

One, two, three, four, bounce, kick, straddle step

I wish I had a video camera. Because words, I fear, cannot convey the extent of which I looked like a giant, uncoordinated, lanky, foolish dork on Monday night.

Ben talked me into taking "step" class at the YMCA. It's an aerobic class where you basically do different foot movements and kicks that require stepping on and off a platform. Not only do you have to get your feet to do short, quasi-choreographed movements, you have to move your hands and arms, too.

I could barely get my feet to move at the right time and in the correct sequence, let alone coordinate my arms to do whatever they were supposed to do. You would think that after much repetition -- doing the same foot sequence for maybe five sets throughout the course of an hour -- someone with a year of danceline and several years of dance class behind her could get a handle of things. Not me.

No, this girl, at times, just kind of stared at the instructor, wondering how I could get my feet to connect with my brain. Whenever the instructor apologized for the confusing moves, I knew she was talking to me. In a group of seven, I was the worst. Even Ben, who my sister had initial doubts about, performed much, much better than me. Compared to me, he was like a Vikings cheerleader, albeit a 6-feet-2-inch one with legs of steel.

So next time at the YMCA, I will return to the treadmill and kiss it. Because running is one thing my feet can do right.

Three ladies, a kitchen and a strong sense of humor

It is a guaranteed bonding experience when three young women, with their combined culinary ignorance, mixing bowls and cookie sheets, flour and sugar, wax paper and rolling pins, come together for the common goal of a holiday baking party.

Today, my friends, Naomi and Heather, and I joined for such an experience. A holiday baking fest, as I like to describe it.

We spent four hours baking, cleaning dishes, melting caramel and chocolate, making meringue for the first time. Four hours! By the time we finished, we had:

--Baked cookies on a sheet we failed to butter because the recipe instructions said null about greasing. You can be sure we used Pam for the next batch.
--Used about eight eggs on a simple meringue frosting that called for only three -- not because we misread the directions but because we(I) didn't have patience and dumped instead of gradually poured the granulated sugar into the meringue. I didn't get a thick frosting; I got a fluid mixture that couldn't properly frost a cookie even if I begged and begged it to. The second try, I'm happy to report, was the charm.
--Spent around an hour preparing zimtsterne cookies (that doesn't include baking time) because I wanted a challenge.
--Burned multiple fingers after melting chocolate and taking a cookie sheet out of the oven.
--Used a shot glass as a cookie cutter. Talk about improvisation!

But we also:
--Produced about 60 chocolate peanut butter krispy balls. Yumm.
--Baked a successful batch of zimtsterne (the cookies were too damn hard to make a double batch this time).
--Prepared enough dough for five dozen fruity oatmeal cookies.
--Made just enough turtle clusters, although there will be no complaints from me if my friend makes more.
--Baked pre-made macadamia nut cookie dough, in case all of the other recipes proved to be disasters.
--Ate enough cookie dough and peanut butter krisp clusters to make our blood sugar levels shoot through the roof. Yes, I think there may be a hole in the roof.

Pleasing my meat-lovin' man

I married a farm boy. And he L-O-V-E-S -- I mean looooooooves -- his red meat. So like a good wife, I gave him what he wanted tonight.

I made Paula Deen's bacon cheeseburger meatloaf. Yes, it is as fattening and as rich as it sounds. I have no interest in learning the calorie content, otherwise, I may never make it again. I usually get fat-free (which I'm starting to loathe) or light cheese, but I bought the real stuff tonight. And I think I mistakenly picked up the fattiest hamburger known to mankind. I did, however, use less bacon that the recipe called for.

I love my husband so much that I got my hands dirty. Really dirty. I mixed the raw meat, eggs, mayo, bacon, package of cheese, ketchup, mustard and bread crumbs together with my own hands. I'll spare you the gag-o-riffic details. At least the meatloaf tasted good.

I won't post the recipe here. Let me know if you want it, and I'll e-mail it.

Domestic diva unleashed

I'm going to do something very domestic diva-ish this weekend. I'm hosting a baking party. There will be only three of us, but I'm attempting to make two new recipes. Fingers crossed they turn out, because I'm bringing them to family holiday parties.

I hope to post pictures on here by the end of the weekend or early next week.

A cookie misadventure

You would think three people with college degrees could bake chocolate chip cookies. But you would be wrong.

Ben, my friend, Karen, and I tried to bake two batches of chocolate chip cookies last night. The end result were flat cookies that had the taste and texture of cake. Ben and I achieved similar results last month when we backed cookies, but they were fluffy instead of flat.

We followed the recipe exactly, so we assume the culprit is the fat-free butter. Perhaps wise readers out there who have baked many a chocolate chip cookie can weigh in.

Thansgiving went...

Well.

I had hoped Thanksgiving would have given me fodder for a knee-slapping post. But our first time as hosts turned out well.

The turkey didn't explode. Our butts didn't hover over the toilet because something else was, er, exploding.

We've been given too much credit, though, for hosting as if we did all of the work ourselves. That's not how it works, of course. We cleaned. We bought a bird. We found napkins that complimented our festive paper plates (we don't have a dishwasher).

But Ben's brother-in-law oversaw him remove all of the gobbledygook from the turkey on the eve of Thanksgiving. And his brother put the bird in the oven Thursday morning while we were running in the 6-mile Drumstick Dash. And his mom and sister had their hands in almost every other dish -- the homemade pumpkin pie and spiced pumpkin cheesecake, the stuffing, the corn. Shall I go on?

So Thanksgiving went off without a hitch. But it wouldn't have had it not been for our family and friends, who gave us plenty of advice along the way.

Trading spaces

I've never considered myself a quitter until I became one yesterday when I quit my job.

I had my reasons, mind you. Good ones. And while it wasn't the hardest thing I've ever done, it was far from easy. My stomach was in a giant knot until I broke the news.

I'm not happy about leaving after a short tenure, but I'm taking advantage of an opportunity to cover a cool beat and work with talented staff. What's more, I can carpool with my hubby to work.

The only other time that I can recall really being a loser and quitting was when I traded in my "sandwich artist" polo at Subway (after one month) for a Micky Mouse tie to work at Hy-Vee. For some reason, I hated the monotony of making sandwiches more than I disliked bagging groceries. And this was, of course, when I was still months shy of 17.

Great expectations

Do you ever dream about how good something will be only to have reality crush your dreams?

Dumb question. Of course you have. Well, that happened to me today. Twice.

Example #1
Ben and I continue to develop a deeper connection with our church by volunteering every four weeks as greeters (OK, I put the food in the baskets because I'm "shy"). It's made me think about the value of donating our time and how important it is. So yesterday, I suggested to Ben that we volunteer at another organization. However, I didn't have a brilliant suggestion as to where we could share our time.

Until today. I know animal shelters need volunteers. And I love dogs. So I proposed this afternoon that we volunteer at the Humane Society. I even sent Ben the link on volunteering.

He laughed at me. He thinks it's part of my grand plot to one day sneak home a puppy that just happened to be accompanied by adoption papers and immunization records. I, of course, denied that this would ever happen. It's not logical for us to welcome a little one into our home at this time. In fact, I said that it would offer us the opportunity to be around dogs since we can't have them.

I'm currently looking for other volunteer opportunities.

Example #3
I'm been thinking about squash ever since I tried butternut squash ravioli at Al Vento this past weekend. So instead of having baked potatoes with our steak tonight, I suggested that we try acorn squash. Ben stuffed it with walnuts, brown sugar, nutmeg and butter, and then he grilled the squash.

It tasted earthy. Is that a good thing? No, no, it isn't a good thing at all. That is the last time I'll ever eat squash at home unless someone can prove to me that squash can be as heavenly as it is earthy.

A pretty good pasta recipe

Pasta is perhaps my favorite dish. So I was pretty darn happy when Ben and I made BLT pasta Sunday night and loved it so much that we gobbled up the leftovers Monday night. Here's the recipe:

"BLT" Pasta
Prep: 10 min.
Total: 20-25 min.
(if you're me...)

3 cups penne pasta, uncooked
4 oz. Philadelphia cream cheese, cut up (I used fat free)
1 cup milk
1/4 cup grated Parmesan cheese
4 slices bacon, crisply cooked, drained and crumbled
2 cups baby spinach leaves
1 cup grape or cherry tomatoes
1 tsp. Italian seasoning

Cook pasta in large saucepan as directed on package.

Meanwhile, cook cream cheese, milk and Parmesan cheese in large skillet on medium-high heat for three minutes or until cream cheese is melted and mixture is well blended, stirring frequently. Add remaining ingredients, cook and stir for five minutes or until heated through.

Drain pasta, return to pan. Add sauce, toss to coat.

Makes four servings, 1 1/2 cups each.

Source: Kraft recipes

Special notes: I used some garlic salt for extra taste.

Dear Senator, I propose....

For the life of me, I cannot say no.

So I propose candy-free workplaces. Schools are going healthy nowadays, so why shouldn't places of employment? Minnesota has banned cigarettes in the workplace. Let's move on to the tarts and chocolates. Perhaps I should write my senator about my idea for the next brilliant piece of education. I can just imagine now looking up the bill on Thomas and seeing all those co-sponsors from both sides of the aisle.

OK, maybe that's extreme. But seriously. For a girl who has turned into someone who has no willpower when it comes to sugar, let's hide the candy at least. I work in a small office, and on the center table yesterday and today was a HUGE basket full of goodies -- Hot Tamales, Kit-Kat's, Sugar Babies (a long lost love!).

Finally, the snickerdoodle recipe

Cookies
1 c. shortening
1 1/2 c. sugar
2 eggs
2 3/4 c. flour
2 tsp. cream of tartar
1 tsp. soda
1/4 tsp. salt

Coating
2 tbsp. sugar
2 tsp. cinnamon

Cream sugar and shortening, add eggs and mix thoroughly. Sift dry ingredients together and stir in. Roll dough into balls. Roll balls in mixture of sugar and cinnamon. Grease pan. Bake at 400 degrees for 8 to 10 minutes.

Source: Lutheran Church Cookbook

The sounds of Lake Harriet

During a run tonight around Lake Harriet, I heard:

--a guy let out a loud belch (it was more of a groooowl) while he was riding his bike

--a woman tell someone over the phone that she wasn't going to give "the baby" the father's last name because she was f'in mad at him

-- a man hum while running

Oh, the sweet sounds of Lake Harriet.

Me No Like Tarragon

I made a disaster out of our dinner tonight, and I blame it on the tarragon. Simply put, tarragon is the worst herb I've yet to encounter.

It all started last night when I prepared an herb concoction to smother over a slow-roasting turkey. It included tarragon, sage, garlic, butter, salt and pepper. The red flag should have gone up as I minced the tarragon, and a black licorice aroma filled the air. Woofta. Black licorice and a Jenny-O turkey do not mix.

I just looked up tarragon, and its formal name is dragon's wort. Now, if I had known that I was lathering up my turkey in dragon's wort, I would have thought twice before using it. According to Wikipedia (it's OK to use this source-- this isn't an article), tarragon has an "aromatic property reminiscent of anise," which contains licorice-like components. Licorice-like components? Yuck.

Next time I use a recipe full of different herbs, I'm going to do my homework. And for the time being, I'm banning all recipes that include tarragon, unless it only requires a minuscule amount.

Calling all chili recipes

It's that time of year again. It's about to get finger-numbing cold. So I'm calling for all chili recipes. It may be cold outside, but our bellies deserve to feel warm.

Please post your favorite chili recipe below.

Three Fish, dark cookie sheets, a pumpkin danish and so much more

My dream job de jour is to be a food critic. How fabulous would it be to spend my time hunting the best restaurants in town, trying new foods and writing about it. Awesome? I think so, too.

Meow
My weekend began with my first ever visit to the Kitty Cat Klub in Dinkytown. It has the feeling of a lounge and coffee shop rolled into one. It's got the atmosphere and comfort of the coolest coffee shop ever, only it serves booze and has the decor of a NYC lounge. The service was pretty good -- our tables were cleared often.

Food diary
Then last night my cousin Stef and I baked snickerdoodle cookies for the first time. I love, love, love snickerdoodles, so when I saw the recipe in my local Lutheran church's cookbook (and the recipe was my dental hygienist's), I had to make them. About half taste perfect. The other half has burnt bottoms. Stef and I disagreed about whether the cookies were done and so we left them in the oven for two extra minutes. When I discussed this experience with my mom, she asked me what kind of baking sheets I used. When I told her black, she told me therein lie my problem. Dark pans heat faster. I will likely use the pans again, but I won't make the mistake of baking them too long. In fact, I may try another batch this weekend.

After our baking fest, we went to Three Fish, 3070 Excelsior Blvd., Minneapolis. It's located in a strip mall, but it's near Lake Calhoun, so it's not your typical strip mall. I had the haddock, she had the grilled salmon. We both had garlic mashed potatoes. It came with this delicious basil butter. So different and to die for. The food was so good that we didn't leave a scrap on our plates -- partly because our entrees each cost $18.95 and we were willing to feel like crap from stuffing ourselves for the sake of the good food. We were in and out in less than 40 minutes. The place wasn't filled, and our fish arrived about 10 minutes after we ordered. The weird part of the evening was the fact that we were, by 20 or 30 years, the youngest demographic there. I'm guessing most of the other patrons were in their 50s and 60s.

After an early morning run with my pal Naomi this morning, we went to Cupcake. For those of you Twin Citians who have never been, allow me to take you there. It has the best darn danishes and scones in the metro area. Heck, probably the best danishes and scones in the state or at least on par with those at River Rock in St. Peter, Minn. I had the pumpkin danish today, which I'm assuming is a seasonal treat since I've never seen it before. I can vouch for it if you want to try it.

Wine musings
I'm just now starting to enjoy wine. This week, I had a glass occasionally when I got home after work. All the health articles say it's good for you, so why not? Besides, it's low in calories. My latest favorite is Casa La Joyas Reserve, Malbec. It goes down so smoothly and has a slight tart -- this is a good thing, I think -- flavor. For wine lovers and those who think they may be wine lovers, I highly recommend it. I'm going to pick up a few more bottles when I make another trip to a liquor store.

Mad props

I stumbled upon this ultra cool Web site today that allows you to make reservations online for 140-plus restaurants in the Minneapolis-St. Paul area. And that's not all -- it also includes links to the restaurant's Web site, the dress code, whether walk-ins are accepted and a short review/summary of the restaurant.

To the ladies living in our nation's Capitol, it even features Washington, D.C.

Many of you probably already know about it. In case you hadn't heard the good news, check out Open Table at www.opentable.com.

Pumpkin bread: what went wrong?

As you know, Ben and I have been inspired to spend more time in the kitchen than we did before we were hitched. We've been going through recipe books we received when we got married, ones we've acquired over the years and magazine cut-outs.

Today, Ben is experimenting with barbecue pork in the crock pot. He did this without any direction of a recipe. Fingers crossed it will be a success!

I relied on a recipe this afternoon for my first try at pumpkin bread. It was from the local Lutheran church cook book. It's super bland. The pumpkin flavor is subtle, and, even though I added extra cinnamon, the bread doesn't pack a lot of spice. I'm so disappointed, especially since I made two loaves and there's no way I'm going to punish friends and family by sharing some with them. I followed the directions pretty closely, so I can't help but think the ingredients are the culprit. I'd love for readers to weigh in.

Here's the recipe I used:
--2 cups sugar
--3 cups flour
--1 1/4 cup oil
--4 eggs
--1 cup pumpkin
--1/2 cup chopped nuts (I used walnuts)
--3 tsp cinnamon
--1 tsp baking soda

Here's a recipe I'd like to try next time. The source is Simply Recipes.

1 1/2 cups (210g) flour
1/2 teaspoon of salt
1 cup (200 g) sugar
1 teaspoon baking soda
1 cup (1/4 L) pumpkin purée*
1/2 cup (1 dL) olive oil
2 eggs, beaten
1/4 cup water
1/2 teaspoon nutmeg
1/2 teaspoon cinnamon
1/2 teaspoon allspice
1/2 cup (1 dL) chopped walnuts

* To make pumpkin purée, cut a pumpkin in half, scoop out the seeds and stringy stuff, lie face down on a foil or Silpat lined baking sheet. Bake at 350°F until soft, about 45 min to an hour. Cool, scoop out the flesh. Freeze whatever you don't use for future use. Or, if you are working with pumpkin pieces, roast or boil them until tender, then remove and discard the skin.

1 Preheat oven to 350°F (180°C). Sift together the flour, salt, sugar, and baking soda.

2 Mix the pumpkin, oil, eggs, 1/4 cup of water, and spices together, then combine with the dry ingredients, but do not mix too thoroughly. Stir in the nuts.

3 Pour into a well-buttered 9x5x3 inch loaf pan. Bake 50-60 minutes until a thin skewer poked in the very center of the loaf comes out clean. Turn out of the pan and let cool on a rack.

Makes one loaf. Can easily double the recipe.

Should Ben and Brady launch a new blog?

Branden, you are so right. I should change the heading. But there's a part of me that yearns for my old life of freelancing, having gobs of time to work out and cooking for Ben.

Anyway...

Ben and I will be crossing another restaurant off our list when we go to The Sample Room tomorrow night. Has anyone been? Any dishes to recommend. I'm ecstatic. We went to a similar restaurant in New York City called Aspen, which served only small dishes. It was like a Spanish tapas bar, only it wasn't Spanish.

We're thinking of writing about our weekly excursions to a new restaurant in a new blog. It might be wise. I'm lacking good material now that I don't want to cook at all on week nights, unless you count a fried egg with cheese. Now I'll make that any night. Ben asked me yesterday when I'm going to cook a meal for him again. I realized later in the day that I had made breakfast for him that very day -- I poured the generic brand of Lucky Charms for him in a bowl with milk.

Bon Appetit.

Obsessed

I've realized that my two obsessions these days -- and for the past couple of years, actually -- are running and food.

I have a challenging time talking about things other than my running goals (and usually not accomplishing them) and pastries, in particular.

So this post will be no different than my recent conversations with friends and family.

I've been using Runner's World training log, and I can't emphasize enough how cool it is to be able to track your miles and how much time you run each week and month. I've been running an average of three hours every week. Of course that's not three hours in one outing, but spread among four different trips around the lakes or along the river.

Also, yesterday I realized that I'm the biggest wimp when it comes to the heat. I ran the Twin Cities 10-miler around six minutes slower than the Bear Water Run 10-miler I participated in a few weeks ago. During the Bear Water Run, I was focused and happy. Yesterday, I should have felt grateful that I was lucky enough to get into the race. Instead, I'm pretty sure I thought of all the expletives I could use to describe my race. Who wouldn't? It was 72 at 6:30 a.m. and humidity level was at 87 percent.

Some kid standing along Summit Avenue held up a sign that read: "What the ?#@$! was I thinking?"

My thoughts exactly.

Interesting calorie counter

I sometimes think of running as my ticket to eat almost anything I want. If I were to run at a nine-minute mile pace for an hour, I would be able to eat this free and clear. That means I could drink 9.5 glasses of wine, run an hour and not have to worry about the cals. If only I liked running drunk...

And that is, of course, assuming I weigh 150 pounds. I don't, so the next time I want to drink 9.5 glasses of wine, I might have to run an extra half mile or cut back on a glass.

The joys of marrying Ben

I often complain when Ben doesn't pick up his clothes or notice when he drops food on the kitchen floor.

But you will hear only praise from me when he cooks. I came home to dinner on Tuesday after a 10-mile training run with my friend, Naomi. He used a recipe from Men's Health, which I'll post at a later date. It was one of the finest pork chops I've ever had. He cooked it in olive oil and drizzled spicy brown mustard on top. He also cooked apples. Yummy. And today, he cooked chicken pasta and another meal that we can eat throughout the week.

I'm wondering what the male equivalent is for diva.

Will run for pastries

I think the latest issue of Minneapolis-St. Paul magazine was written for me. It features the "best bakeries and pastries in town!"

Ben and I just started creating a list of restaurants we must go to in the Twin Cities. Looks like I'm going to have to make a new list. And I guess I'll have to keep running (oh darn!) to burn those calories while I knock bakeries off my list.

And I know of the perfect place to start -- Moose and Sadie's. It's supposed to have the best scones in town.

We'll just see about that.

Cupcakes and crock pots

Who knew that cupcakes were worth so much coverage? See the article below.

http://www.nytimes.com/2007/09/23/weekinreview/23kershaw.html?ei=5087%0A&em=&en=60a173dfced19086&ex=1190865600&adxnnl=1&adxnnlx=1190729276-EsLoGvcgmO/bKmiraPVHuQ

Ben and I used the Crock Pot yesterday to make a roast. That is a genius invention. If you don't have one, you should get one. The only problem was that we should have cooked a much larger roast so we would have leftovers beyond a day.

Fueling the runner's sole

I think my runner's appetite has returned. Or at least I've got this mentality that just because I'm logging miles, I can eat whatever the heck I want. A case in point: Yesterday I stopped at Panera Bread for some sweet deliciousness after dining at La Brasa and getting beers at Keegan's Pub with Ben. Now, a shortbread cookie from Panera is the least of my worries. I usually down cubicle candy, which must stop. And I just read a CNN article about a study that proves conventional wisdom -- if the food is within sight, you're probably going to demolish it.

That said, feeding the runner's sole is not a bad thing. You need fuel to log those miles. So, without further ado, here's a list of where I filled up this week.

La Grolla
I tried the pear-and-blue cheese salad. When I've ordered this salad at other restaurants, I've loved it. But La Grolla didn't live up to expectations. The spicy pecans were an interesting venture from the status quo -- candied pecans -- but I still like my candied pecans. The grapes were mushy, dull and old. The pears were sliced too thin. But I can't complain about everything. The iced tea was perfect. And my colleague won a free lunch to La Grolla, and invited the whole editorial staff. We all dined for free!

Buca di Beppo
The ambiance worked for me. And the calamari and cheese bread weren't half bad either. But I wouldn't recommend the fettuccine alfredo. It tasted like something out of a Lipton package. I usually hesitate when it comes to seafood pasta, but it was probably the best entree of the night. If you make reservations, don't count on getting seated right away. We waited for 30 minutes. Ben told the manager we were there for a birthday and said he expected some kind of compensation for our wait. We got four monster cakes worth $40. Oh, did I mention that Buca's serves beer in extraordinarily large glasses? It was like drinking your meal.

La Brasa
Every food writer in town has reviewed La Brasa. I'm not sure if it lives up to Rick Nelson's article -- I don't think I would pull my car over so I could start digging in on the take-out. But the rotisserie chicken and pork were moist and sweetly flavored. I highly recommend the fried plantains. La Brasa serves Mexican Coca-Cola (made from sugar cane). Ben thought he died and went to heaven. The service is great, and the waiters are nice. If you want to try something different, check out La Brasa in northeast Minneapolis.

The coffee-with-skim scandal

When I'm at Caribou at 7:50 a.m., all I want is my coffee, followed by a quick exit. But these days, getting my coffee when I want it and how I like it hasn't been so easy.

Select Caribou and other chain coffee houses have stopped putting skim milk -- and 2 percent milk for that matter -- at the sugar stations.

Here's my morning scenario as of late: I ask for a medium coffee with room for skim, and when I get my coffee, I ask for skim milk again. The barista doesn't always hear me the first time. Then, I usually wait for the barista to look for the milk. When I get it, I step aside for the next customer. (Usually I pour the milk into the coffee as soon as I get it, but yesterday, the coffee was filled to the brim. Kind of defeats the purpose of asking for skim milk. So the barista had to go back to the sink to pour it out.) I then proceed to the sugar station and pour three packets of Equal into my coffee.

Now, you may be thinking that I'm fussing over nothing. Not true. I'm almost certain it takes me longer to wait for the skim milk than it did when I would go to the sugar station and help myself. In Washington, D.C., I had no problem with this. It was more efficient to leave the cream, milk and skim milk out for the coffee hoarders.

So I want to know the reason(s) behind this change. Are coffee giants like Starbucks and Caribou trying to cut costs? Or are they worried about my health and the potential of drinking bad milk? Was there some health advisory that was recently released that I don't know about?

I must investigate.

The missing link, the Bear Water 10-miler, Grey's and good music

What is it with recipe directions that don't spell out every detail? For amateurs like me, I need every detail, even if it should be common sense. I mean, common sense is just something I don't have a lot of in the area of culinary arts.

For example, today I was looking in my Idiot's Guide: Cooking for Two book to come up with a new meal to try this week. I've settled on spicy chicken quesadillas. We love Mexican fare, and I've been wanting to try making quesadillas for a while.

The directions seemed simple enough at first. But after reading the directions a few times, I realized there was nothing about what to do with the mix of mayo, chili powder and cilantro. Do you combine it with the chicken before baking the quesadillas? Or do you use it as a side? I'm going to combine the chicken and mayo mix. It should work. But what if it doesn't?

Damn those cookbook editors.

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Ben and I ran the Bear Water Run 10-miler yesterday. We grumbled when we had to get out of bed at 6 a.m. to the 40-degree weather. Ben asked, "Why did you sign us up for this thing?"

But the Lion's Club did a fantastic job of organizing the seventh annual race. And despite the hills around every corner during miles three through six, we had reasonably good finishing times.

Ben also ran part of the race with an inspiring man. He used to be overweight and his doctor was going to increase his dosage when he decided that he would take his health into his own hands. He started running. He's since run six marathons and lost 50 pounds.

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Grey's Anatomy starts in less than two weeks. I'm so excited I could break out a bottle of champagne.

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Have you heard the latest iPod commercial? The leader of Feist is in it, and she's singing 1-2-3-4. Ben and I loved the song. I have since bought the CD on iTunes. I recommend listening to her CD The Reminder if you have time.

The reason for the spaghetti...

Here's the route Ben and I will be running Saturday morning. Packet pick-up starts at 6:30 a.m. Whee!

Lo Spaghetti è buono!

I'm running a 10-miler this Saturday to train for the Twin Cities 10-miler in October. So I've just been making and eating spaghetti leftovers. No misadventures there. It's one of the five meals I can make without a major screw-up.

Visit to the candy shop (or the gas station)

There's nothing better than a soft, chewy Bit-O-Honey. I bought a bag today. As usual, I get stressed or bored on the job and have to gnaw on something. So I did, and it was great. I ate about six, which means I have plenty for tomorrow.

To wink: I don't necessarily have to eat like a queen every night. Ben likes healthy meals. I've been known to dine on candy for dinner.

Pooped

That's how I feel after three days on the job. Pooped. I understand that the word "poop" should be used sparingly, if at all, in a blog about food and other things.

But that's how I feel. When I worked in Washington, I usually felt drained after work. But I loved my job, so that was OK. And I still squeezed in an hour, sometimes more, at the fitness center almost every day. But last week, after the long drive home, I couldn't help but plop in front of the TV. No time for running or making dinner. And on Thursday, when I didn't finish work until midnight, doing anything but going to sleep was out of the question.

So, I wonder, how, after working all day and going for a post-work jog around the lake, am I going to have the energy to cook a meal that has more substance than an English muffin with peanut butter or granola bars.

Alas, I ask you my friends, who topple these everyday issues, for advice.

I've got competition

Today was my first day on the job, and I'm already tired. Tonight I had to wrap up some freelance work, and tomorrow I have a 12 to 13-hour work day ahead of me.

Meanwhile, Ben still wants me to be a domestic diva. I made dinner -- tomato soup and grilled cheese sandwiches (hey, I was craving it). But, for the first time since we've lived together, Ben put on the apron. He washed the dishes and cleaned up the kitchen.

Who's the domestic diva now?

***************************************************************************************

There's a Martha Stewart wannabe in the office, and today she brought in a simple recipe for banana bread. Competition? I think so.

Great Expectations

I'm hired. Finally.

Three months after being a bum -- and kind of enjoying it -- I've landed a job at a small weekly. I'm excited, nervous, ready. I start tomorrow. It's a day that I've been praying for and counting on for a long time.

I hope that my inner domestic diva -- however small -- does not die with this job. When I worked in Washington, I lived like a bachelor. My pad was minimal. My fridge was bare. I was too tired to cook after I got home from work and exercising.

I wonder how I'll juggle it all -- maintaining our gorgeous place, cooking dinner and preparing lunch before the next day's work, running five days a week and eventually training for a marathon (I'm hoping to do one this spring), reading for myself and entertaining.

Many a woman have done it, so I should be able to find that balance, too. And when I do, maybe I can add "super woman" to my resume.

Giving Ben props

My two biggest challenges in the kitchen?

1. Grilling meat
2. Cutting (anything)

So when Ben wants meat with his dinner, I'm usually perplexed. I have no problem frying hamburger for spaghetti. But if he wants a steak or bbq chicken, he's on his own. When he asks where the meat is, I usually respond with "You know I can't use the grill," or "You have to teach me how to use the grill," or "There's a leftover pork chop in the fridge from the weekend."

And it's Minnesota, so there will be no using the George Foreman until 10 degrees below zero. I can use that. It's the gas grill on our deck that puzzles me.

I have to give props to Ben when meat -- any meat -- is part of our dinner. It's usually because he cooked or grilled it. The other week, he grilled cheese burgers. Now, they weren't your typical cheese burger. They were moist and juicy and tasty, oh my. What made this ordinary dinner extraordinary? He shaped the meat around the cheese. When I sunk my teeth into the sizzling beef, the hot cheese oooooozed out. Hmm hmm good.

I hope he gets home soon. I'm hungry for a cheese burger.

What is this orange zest?

I picked up the Self special issue yesterday. It's the "cooking for real people (not chefs!)" issue. I have already marked several dishes I want to make.

But first, a few questions that can most likely be answered by those wiser than me:

1. What is orange zest? And where do I find it?
2. Where can I buy good filet mignon for a dinner party? And by good, I mean tasty and tender but not super expensive.
3. Is Dijon mustard similar to spicy brown mustard? What's the diff?
4. Can orange extract be found in the baking aisle?

The sweet taste of victory

I need a high five or a pat on the back.

Last night, I made curried chicken salad. It was delish and healthier than that Martha's Vineyard salad you can get at Arby's. My cousin ate two helpings, and Ben wanted me to whip him up a curried chicken salad sandwich for lunch today.

I was beyond nervous as I prepared the salad. I had spent an hour on it and 30 minutes cleaning up and doing dishes. So if they hadn't liked it, I would have been peeved.

But they did like it. And so did I. I'm a chicken salad freak, so any twist on it sounds good to me.

The recipe came from my friend Nina, who has entertained many a guest. Here it is followed by some warnings to those culinary rookies like me:

Curried Chicken Salad

From the kitchen of: Nina
Makes: about 4 cups
Prep time: 15 min.
Total time: 1 hr (includes 30 min. chilling time)

1.5 lbs boneless, skinless chicken breasts
salt and pep
2 tbs veg oil
1/2 c. sliced almonds
1/2 c. mayo
2 tbs fresh lemon juice
2 tsp Dijon mustard
1 tsp curry powder
2 ribs celery, chopped fine
1 c. seedless red or green grapes, halved
4 scallions, sliced thin
2 tbs minced fresh parsley

1. Season the chicken with salt and pepper. Heat the oil in a 12-inch
skillet over medium heat until shimmering. Carefully add the chicken
and cook until lightly golden brown on the first side, about 5 min.
Flip the chicken over, cover, and continue to cook until it is no
longer pink in the center, about 5 min. longer.Transfer the chicken to
a plate and refrigerate until chilled, about 30 min.
2. Meanwhile, toast the almonds in a skillet over medium heat until
golden and fragrant, about 4 min; set aside. Mix together the mayo,
lemon juice, mustard, curry powder, 1/2 tsp salt and 1/4 tsp pepper
and refrigerate until needed.
3. Cut the chilled chicken into 1/4-inch pieces and toss with the may
mixture, toasted almonds and the remaining ingredients. Season with
salt and pepper to taste.

--Be CAREFUL when cooking the chicken in vegetable oil. I got splattered on, and it hurt. I forgot that we have a screen to prevent this from happening, but I was clueless as to what to do when placing the chicken in the skillet.
--Don't take your eyes of the almonds as you toast them. They can burn fast. I had extra almonds as back-up.
--Really, how do you mince parsley? I found this challenging. Any advice is appreciated.

But first, here's my advice to you: Make curried chicken salad for your family, significant other or just yourself tonight. And then thank Nina!

ADD, work and weddings, oh my

Whenever I work at home, attention deficit disorder kicks in. It's not funny -- it takes me hours to transcribe notes, a day to do laundry, an hour or two to get out of my PJ's. I need a schedule and an office.

I hope my jobless situation changes soon.

I don't have anything domestic to report. I was out of town Thursday through Sunday for a wedding. And as soon as I made it back to Minneapolis, Ben and I were back in the car to go to the State Fair. We paid $11 just to get into the fairgrounds so we could eat junk: turkey drumstick, cheese curds, deep-fried Snickers, mini-donuts and a bucket of Martha's cookies (those are in the freezer).

Ten pounds later, I'm at home trying to write an article. But first, a few words about the weekend. I was a bridesmaid in my friend's wedding Saturday. It was a fabulous affair. Everything went well except for the sermon. Instead of talking about the couple and love, he talked on and on and on and on about Gustavus -- a university in St. Peter, Minn.

Without further ado, here are some photos from the wedding and a few tame snapshots from Thursday's bachelorette party.

Rosemary potatoes = mmm mmm good

Thanks to my cousin Abby, tonight's side dish was D-E-L-I-S-H. I made the rosemary potatoes. And the fresh rosemary came straight from my plant. I was oh so proud as I pulled off the leaves for the feast.

In case you didn't see the recipe in the comments section, here it is again:

6 red potatoes quartered
Olive oil
Rosemary (fresh or dried)
Garlic Salt & Pepper

Heat oven to 400 degrees
Place potatoes in a cake pan
Coat with olive oil
Sprinkle with Rosemary
Sprinkle with garlic salt and pepper
Bake until tender

Tonight's dinner was not one big success, however.

I found a recipe on the Food Network. It seemed easy enough to make and the ingredients weren't hard to come by. But I didn't want to travel to Cub Foods, so I decided on some substitutions.

I threw in Parmesan for ricotta cheese. I settled on wheat spaghetti instead of linguine. I had to use Roma tomatoes instead of cherry ones. I used my old standby of minced garlic. Oh, I didn't have lemons, so I went without the lemon juice.

Ben thanked me for dinner and doing the dishes, but there were no rave reviews. Here's the recipe. It may be worth another try...with the right ingredients.

Whole-Wheat Linguine with Green Beans, Ricotta and Lemon Source: Food Network 1 pound whole-wheat linguine 1/2 cup part-skim ricotta 3 tablespoons olive oil 1/2 pound French green beans, trimmed and halved lengthwise 1 clove garlic, chopped 1 teaspoon salt 1/2 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper 1 cup halved cherry tomatoes 1 lemon, zested Bring a large pot of salted water to a boil over high heat. Add the pasta and cook until tender but still firm to the bite, stirring occasionally, about 8 to 10 minutes. Drain pasta reserving 1 cup of the cooking water. Transfer the hot pasta to a large bowl and add the ricotta cheese. Toss to combine. Meanwhile, in a large, heavy skillet, warm the olive oil over medium-high heat. Add the green beans, garlic, salt, and pepper and saute for 4 minutes. Add 1 cup of the pasta cooking liquid and continue cooking until tender, about 4 more minutes. Add the pasta with ricotta to the pan with the green beans and toss to combine. Add the tomatoes and gently toss. Transfer to a serving plate and top with lemon zest.

Look what I bought today

I went on a shopping spree today. An attempt at soothing my unemployed woes. Perhaps.

It wasn't that kind of adventure. I shopped for purely culinary reasons and didn't max out my credit card. I bought a rosemary plant and a plant that doesn't need attention for Ben's new office.

The rosemary plant is fragrant, and the sales person did a super job of finding the perfect pot and filling it with soil and decorative rocks (for free!). I figure I should probably get basil and bay leaf plants, too. They'll save me future trips to the grocery store. But let's take it just one plant at a time. I need to make sure this one survives beyond a few weeks.

Still got my training wheels

After more than six weeks of training, I still haven't reached domestic diva-hood.

My mom stayed with me this weekend, and it was her introduction to the new pad. She seemed impressed with the place. I wasn't surprised. It's packed full of character.

Her arrival was an event. I cleaned. I paced the place to make sure everything was in top shape. I lit candles.

But we diva trainees are not perfect. Before she left, she gave me new bathroom rugs. The chocolate ones, she said, showed every little towel particle and toothpaste dropping (gosh, that sounds gross). So now, my bathroom features khaki rugs that don't quite compliment my khaki shower curtain as well as the chocolate ones do. I've chosen function over style.

This diva still has a lot to learn.

The staple side dish

If you're like me -- someone who has little knowledge of the culinary arts -- you get excited at the slightest mastery of any dish. And you may go overboard, making it every chance you get because, finally, you've done something right.

For years I cooked green beans from a can, never truly enjoying the wonderfulness of saute'ed fresh green beans. Until last month, that is. I watched Ben saute' them, and I've been copying him ever since. Now I feel like the queen of green beans.

Saute'ed green beans

Ingredients:
--fresh green beans, ends snipped off and washed
--approx. 1-2 tsp. of minced garlic
--olive oil
--crushed black pepper and salt
--a dash of garlic salt

Directions:
--coat pan with olive oil
--stir in minced garlic, so it's evenly distributed
--toss in green beans
--sprinkle pepper, salt and garlic salt on green beans

I cook them over medium heat, so as not to burn the beans or make them mushy. Ben and I like our beans with a little crunch.

Do it yourself? Save $49.99.

For 24 hours, I've been trying to get wireless Internet up and running at home. And for 24 hours, I've gone without it.

Challenge #1: Do-it yourself fast-speed Internet installation
I was on the phone at 11 p.m. yesterday with Comcast support trying to figure out why, after following the limited directions provided, that I couldn't connect with the Internet. The technician did everything he could from his side and then gave me his best advice: disconnect the modem for 15 to 20 minutes and then hook it up again.

Nothing.

I called Comcast again this morning after disconnecting and reconnecting the modem. From Comcast's side of things, the modem was hooked up and good to go. After being put on hold, I reminisced about having RCN in Washington. I didn't have to worry about hooking up my own Internet and cable. It was done for me. I often had to disconnect my computer from the modem when I traveled to New York City. Thinking about this, I remembered that a USB cord was not the lifeline between my computer and the modem. It was an Ethernet cord.

Problem solved.

Challenge #2: Installing a router for wireless Internet
I don't know where to begin here. An "error" message pops up during the third step. And the way to solve this or attempt to solve this, unfortunately, is not clear in the directions.

So I've given up for a few hours or until Ben gets home.

This whole do-it-yourself mentality gets old after a day.

What goes bump in the night

When I moved from Washington to Minnesota, I thought the creatures that were the bane of my existence would not follow.

I assumed correctly.

But it seems to me that something new -- this time with four feet -- has entered my home. During the wee hours this morning, I woke to the pitter patter of four feet, or more depending how many nocturnal creatures were fighting, in the wall behind my bed. I shook Ben awake, who acknowledged that I wasn't hearing things. Something or some things were inside our wall. Oblivious to us.

The chasing or fighting or mating, what have you, lasted for about 15 minutes. Clutching the sheets up to my face, I thought that would be the end of my sleep for the night. And like out of some scary movie, I wondered if grabbing a butcher knife from the kitchen and hiding it under my mattress would save me should these creatures eat their way through the wall.

Ben started snoring.

About 10 or 15 minutes after the scampering stopped, I fell asleep. This morning, I wasn't sure if I believed what I heard last night. So I asked Ben if I had been dreaming or if I had really heard them. They were real, he assured me.

I've put a call into the landlord.

For the working man or woman

The discovery and distribution of this recipe is my small gift to the working man or woman.

It's simple, fast and packs taste. And whenever I make it, my husband brags about my mastery of this recipe to everyone. And man, that feels pretty good.

Without further ado, here it is:

Roast beef swirlwiches

Ingredients
1/2 lb thinly sliced roast beef (I get Black Angus roast beef)
1/4 cup Kikkoman Teriyaki Marinade & Sauce (get low-sodium to cut down on that salt)
1 cup shredded havarti with dill cheese
1/2 cup minced green onions and tops
6 (8-inch) flour tortillas (for a healthier meal, try wheat tortillas)
1 1/2 cups coarsely chopped crisp lettuce
1 tbsp vegetable oil, about

Preparation
1. Spread roast beef slices out in shallow pan; pour in teriyaki sauce. Turn beef slices over to coat each piece. Marinate for 5 minutes, turning over occasionally.
2. Meanwhile, sprinkle 2 rounded tbsp cheese and about 1 tbsp green onion evenly on each tortilla.
3. Remove beef from marinade.
4. On each tortilla, place equal amounts of beef slices and lettuce; roll up tortilla like a jelly roll.
5. Place rolls, seam-side down on baking sheet or pan. Brush tops of rolls with oil.
6. Bake in preheated 400F oven for 10 minutes, or until tops are crisp and edges are golden brown.
7. Serve immediately.

Servings: 6
Preparation time: 10 min.
Baking time: 10 min.

Source: Kikkoman Teriyaki advertisement in Self magazine

It's berry berry good

Ben and I are going to his sister's for dinner tomorrow night. I'm bringing the dessert. I don't want to buy anything pre-made from a store or resort to a boxed dessert. Also, I'm not very skilled when it comes to homemade baking.

I found this recipe on the Food Network. It's low in cal, which Ben and I like, and it seems simple to make. Here it is. Unless I get recommendations before tomorrow morning, I will go with this.

Thoughts?

Very Berry Salad Copyright, 2005, Ellie Krieger All rights reserved

2 tablespoons lemon juice 2 tablespoons orange liqueur (recommended: Cointreau) 2 teaspoons honey 1 16-ounce container strawberries, trimmed 1 8-ounce container blueberries 1 6-ounce container raspberries 1/4 cup chopped fresh mint leaves In a small bowl, whisk together the lemon juice, orange liqueur, and honey. In a large bowl combine the berries and the mint. Pour the dressing on top and toss gently. Nutrition Information Nutritional Analysis per serving Calories 83 Total Fat 0 grams Saturated Fat 0 grams Carbohydrates 20 grams Protein 2 gram Fiber 4 grams

Reading lists

I have two recipes that I'm excited to share, but first, a diversion from the theme of the blog (the recipes will appear later today or tomorrow).

After stealing the latest Harry Potter book from Ben and finishing it, I have a need for some good summer literature. I want to be entertained, and I want to read something smart at the same time.

Please share your summer reading list in the comments section. I'm publishing my very short list, too:

Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows by J.K. Rowling
A Thousand Splendid Suns by Khaled Hosseini
The Road by Cormac McCarthy
Dreams From My Father: A Story of Race and Inheritance by Barack Obama

The fantastic dinner that wasn't...

What I characterized as a "twist" on potatoes turned out to be not much more than baked potatoes with Parmesan sprinkled on top.

The recipe:
--6 tbsp. butter, melted
--3 tbsp. grated Parmesan cheese (I showered the potatoes in cheese)
--8 med. red potatoes, scrubbed and cut in half

Pour butter in pan and sprinkle Parmesan cheese over the melted butter. Place potatoes with cut side down over cheese. Bake at 400 degrees for 40 to 45 minutes or until tender.

Source: Tracy Lutheran Cookbook

It wasn't that the potatoes were bad. They just weren't mind-blowing good. I wouldn't discourage others from making the dish, but if you do, make sure you have a tasty main entree. The potatoes, by themselves, aren't good enough.

***Tip to readers***
Be sure to read the comments section. Folks have been leaving recipes and tips!

Fresh basil: it does exist

My former esteemed colleague and pal in the dare-to-be-Martha world, Miss Nugget, has informed me via the blogosphere that there is a difference between fresh basil and dry basil.

My bad.

And she has pointed out that it can be found in the produce section (Nugget, I looked next to the parsley, believe me). She has also suggested that one, who may someday be in need of fresh basil, should consider keeping a plant at home, where it's fresh for the picking.

I still made the bruschetta with dry basil, and it tasted like bruschetta. The recipe, as you will see below, is simple. And the result is a simple taste. That said, it was good, and I plan on making another batch tomorrow when I entertain my sister and cousin. I will also be making a new recipe. Although it screams made-in-Minnesota, it's a clever, yet simple, twist on the baked potato.

Without further ado, here's the recipe. It comes from www.epicurean.com. (Fellow bloggers, if you can help me, I'm having a challenging time including links to sites outside blogger.com. I never had this problem with my old blog.)

Ingredients:

5-6 Ripe Roma Tomatoes
Olive Oil
Balsamic Vinegar
Fresh Basil *
French or Sourdough Baguette
Freshly Grated Parmesan Cheese

Directions:

Dice tomatoes. In bowl add equal parts oil/vinegar, approximately 2-3 tablespoons each. Add chopped basil and tomatoes and let sit. Cut bread into 1/4 inch thick slices, lightly butter and top with a sprinkle of Parmesan. Put bread under broiler at lower setting until golden brown and crunchy. Serve with tomato mixture spooned on top or let people do it themselves.

*Dry basil works, too. Just sprinkle over tomato/oil/vinegar mixture.

Also, see comments section for what looks to be a delish recipe from Nugget.

Stumped by fresh basil

I'm making bruschetta tonight for the first time. I will let you know tomorrow how it turns out. It'll serve as an appetizer before we move on to fresh green beans and Ben's leftover chicken breast. There's nothing better than fresh green beans, so even if the bruschetta is a huge failure, we won't go hungry.

I'm a little worried, though. I don't have fresh basil. The recipe specifically calls for it fresh. I went to Cub Foods but could only find basil in the spices section, and that doesn't seem fresh to me. Without planting my own spices, I wonder where a person can find it. Or is McCormick's basil considered fresh?

Full of beans

It was a rare occasion when I made coffee at home. Instead, I liked to pay $2 for a regular cup of Joe from Caribou or Starbucks every day when I could have pocketed that $40 per month for, say, a new pair of shoes when mine started to smell.

I preferred the stronger taste of the Kenya blend from Caribou over watered-down Foldgers. And I enjoyed being served my coffee in its cute little cup instead of having to wait on myself.

But times have changed, my friends. Although I consider myself a coffee shop snob -- I seek only the best cafes (move over Starbucks) to spend an hour with friends over a cafe miel -- I've started to take my coffee at home.

One of my first morning detours is a trip to the kitchen counter where the coffee pot sits. I pour a few spoonfuls of Trader Joe's Bolivian blend coffee beans into the Mr. Coffee grinder. I press down on the grinder until the loud sound stops and then scoop a few tablespoons of fresh grounds into the Mr. Coffee maker. I press the "on" button. And within a few minutes, I'm sipping the smooth brown magic.

I still go to nearby coffee shops, but the number of trips per week has dwindled down to one or two. Even then, I go for iced tea or some special drink that I can't -- or, more likely, won't -- make at home.

I attribute the switch to making coffee at home to the grinder, a new coffee pot and Trader Joe's Bolivian blend coffee beans.

Martha, you are my inspiration

Don't be fooled by the name of the blog. I will share musings beyond the kitchen during my quest to become the next Martha Stewart.

I'm kidding. Who wants to be Martha? She's almost perfect -- that brief stint in prison earns her the qualifier of "almost" -- and being perfect is boring. Besides, her empire includes K-Mart. I'm more of a Target kind of gal.

Seriously, though, I have spent plenty of time in the kitchen during the last few weeks. I made beef swirlwiches, about which Ben boasted to everyone. "Brady made the most amazing dinner," he told his friends and family. I think it was his way of encouraging me to not resort to my cereal-only-eating ways.

If you had asked me three months ago what my diet consisted of, you would have gotten a very short answer: yogurt, apples, English muffins, cereal and anything Lean Cuisine. Being unemployed has its benefits. I have time to cook and clean and make lists and look up recipes.

I don't intend on being a bum for long. But I hope that this whole kitchen experiment keeps going when I have a job. What's wrong with wanting to be a domestic diva? I can work and be serious and be Martha. Along the way, I'm sure, there will be plenty of mishaps. And I'm happy to share them here. So that's what I'll do.

Enjoy.

From the kitchen of Brady

I write this fresh off of another kitchen experiment. This afternoon I made a salad inspired by my favorite entree at Logan Tavern in Washington, D.C.

Pear and arugula salad.

And, drum roll please....

It turned out. I didn't have to peruse thousands of recipes. I did it by myself and was so proud that, just minutes ago, I jotted down the recipe on a card. And in the "from the kitchen of" category, I wrote "Brady" with the biggest grin on my face.

Don't pity me. This is exciting stuff -- making food that actually tastes good, something you wouldn't be embarrassed to have your friends and family put in their mouthes.

OK, so I kind of fibbed earlier. I did go online to find the measurements for the perfect blend of olive oil and red wine vinegar. But the rest of the recipe, which I'm proud to share, was all me.

Ingredients:
--bag of baby arugula
--1 large pear (more if desired), chopped
--6 slices of bacon, grilled and chopped
--1 c candied pecans or walnuts
--1/2 c feta, havarti or blue cheese (it's up to you)
--4 tsp extra virgin olive oil
--2 tsp red wine vinegar
--salt and pepper to taste

Directions: Rinse off arugula and dry. Pour chopped bacon and pear, pecans and cheese over salad. Shake salad and ingredients. Mix extra virgin olive oil and red wine vinegar in separate bowl, using a whisk or spoon. Pour over mixed salad.

Preparation time: 10-15 minutes
Servings: 2

And voila! You have salad for two.